


running circles around ourselves

by segmentcalled



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Communication, Getting Together, Grinding, How Do I Tag, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pat Is Horny For Wrestling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Strength Kink, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, like very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segmentcalled/pseuds/segmentcalled
Summary: He’s not sure when, exactly, he realized he was into Brian. It snuck up on him. But it was through every haircut, too-short and neatly-professional and shaggy middle-length and fluffy lion’s-mane, and even once it was gone again, and even through the goddamn fucking mustache.Brian lives in this strange intersection between conventionally attractive and a combination of unusual features — wide dark eyes and weak chin and big nose and crooked mischievous smile — that makes him eye-catching, expressive, even more beautiful the longer you look at him.But Pat swears to god the muscles aretoo much to handle.





	running circles around ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> _that it felt like this, we were never told_  
_and it scares us bad so we'll have to be bold_  
_but there is still one thing that we need to know_  
[good day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuZTcOyGCRY), jukebox the ghost
> 
> OH GOOD IT'S A WHOLESOME FIC WHERE PAT IS A TRANS MAN

Brian came to Polygon a nervous little thing, projecting a veil of confidence; despite the fact that they all immediately cottoned on to his myriad talents, he had this undercurrent of anxiety that Pat can seriously relate to. Brian, though, as he grew more accustomed to his new everyday, blossomed into truer confidence, supporting that character he tried so hard to play at first with a more honest version of himself.

Pat knows Brian had liked his work before he came to Polygon. He referenced Pat’s videos in his goddamn video cover letter, for crying out loud. He knows Brian was a little intimidated at first, around these people he’d looked up to — how could he not be? Pat certainly was, when that was him. But by a few episodes into _Gill & Gilbert_, that awkwardness had shifted away. It’s hard not to form a genuine rapport with someone after you’ve done a litany of food crimes with them and stuck balloons to their whole body.

He’s not sure when, exactly, he realized he had a crush on Brian. It snuck up on him. But it was through every haircut, too-short and neatly-professional and shaggy middle-length and fluffy lion’s-mane, and even once it was gone again, and even through the goddamn fucking mustache.

Brian lives in this strange intersection between conventionally attractive and a combination of unusual features — wide dark eyes and weak chin and big nose and crooked mischievous smile — that makes him eye-catching, expressive, even more beautiful the longer you look at him.

But Pat swears to god the muscles are _too much_.

Sometime after PAX Brian had huffed an awkward sort of laugh, ran his hand through the hair on the back of his head and said, _yeah I mean it was pretty embarrassing how winded I was after just running in a circle around the room so I’ve been making a little more of an effort_.

And sometime between then and now he has genuinely noticeably filled out; his arms look incredible, and good Lord, Pat is almost ashamed of how badly he wants to put his face on those pecs. He keeps wearing these shirts that tug tight across his chest _just so_ and sometimes a bit of skin peeks between the buttons and it is like he is working with a living thirst trap and he is well and truly caught in it.

He’s not even totally sure if Brian’s aware of it, and he sure as hell _hopes_ he’s at least not aware of how fully Pat’s fallen into it. Well. Into him, really.

Except.

Brian sees one of his periodic brainless thirsty wrestling tweets while he’s sitting next to Pat; he laughs and shows Pat his own tweet and says, “Y’know, I bet I’m strong enough to do that now.”

Pat stutters for a second, and then manages, “I mean, I was only joking,” and then feels like a complete idiot.

Brian shrugs, still grinning. “Fair enough. Still. Might be fun to get into wrestling.”

“I do recommend it,” Pat says, a little faint.

They’re cleaning up after filming an _Overboard_ when it happens. Pat has just stood up from putting the camera away, starts towards the outlets to go unplug shit, and then almost in slow motion he watches as Brian’s foot catches on a cord and he goes sprawling, right into Pat.

Pat makes a horribly undignified startled noise as he lands flat on his back, fucking _hard_, with Brian on top of him. Brian blinks, stunned, breath gone out of him with an _oof_, but he recovers fast.

A smirk spreads across his face; when he speaks, his voice is low and soft and a little rough. “Pinned ya.”

Pat stares at him in open astonishment.

Brian sits up and lets Pat up, tosses his hair. He’s still smiling. He looks more smug than he rightfully should. Pat should say something, he knows he should, but he can feel his face burning and has no idea what expression he’s making and heat curls between his legs unbidden and he —

well, he all but _flees_.

The problem is that every time he thinks too hard about being pinned by Brian David Gilbert — or anyone he's attracted to, but especially him — it sends a rush of heady desire through him, and having now had an explicit data point on what exactly it feels like to have him pressed up against him does not help matters.

He focuses, though, or tries to. Puts his headphones on and edits video like a fuckin’ champ and ignores the fact that he’s been vaguely hot-’n-bothered ever since eleven-forty-five in the goddamn morning.

It’s a surprise, then, when as he’s leaving, Brian catches him by the shoulder on the way out.

“Hey,” he says. “Uh. Tell me if I’ve got my signals crossed, I guess, but. How would you feel about a reprise of earlier?”

“I’m sorry?” Pat says.

Brian takes a step closer, chin tilted up towards Pat. “I have it on fairly good authority that you might be into that,” he says. “And, if I may be so bold, I’m into _you_.”

“O-oh?”

“Mhm,” Brian says. He leans casually against the wall, raises his eyebrows. “Y’wanna?”

“What, exactly, is on the table here?” Pat says cautiously, pressing the button for the elevator. Is he for real hitting on him? Like this? Right now?

Brian leans in close enough to whisper. “Pat Gill, I think you’ll find I’m strong and love to fuck.”

Pat can’t help but _laugh_, genuinely astonished to hear this nerd parrot his own ages-old joke at him. “Shit, Brian, guess we’ve got a lot to discuss, then.”

“I thought so,” Brian says, as the elevator doors slide open. It’s empty inside, and after the doors close and Brian hits the button for the ground floor, he wheels around towards Pat. He steps closer, crowding himself against him, only just barely not touching.

“Before we go,” Pat says softly, “you should know I’m a trans man.”

“Alright, cool,” Brian says, and seems to mean that at face value. “Anything I should be aware of?”

“I can be kinda weird about certain vocabulary, but aside from that everything is pretty much entirely chill. I’ll let you know if anything specific comes up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Brian says. He places his hand on the center of Pat’s chest, steady and bracing, and then pulls back once the elevator reaches its destination, before the doors open.

Pat cannot _believe_ this is happening.

* * *

“I want — fuck, Brian, I want you to shove me against the fucking wall and _take_ me.”

“_Jee-zus_,” Brian breathes, and runs his hands up Pat’s arms, telegraphs his movements, and then pushes him, twisting with force to slam Pat’s back against the wall and Pat goes pliant, gasps with the impact. Brian braces his hands on Pat’s shoulders and leers at him. He shoves his thigh up between Pat’s legs and Pat groans and grinds down against him, desperate for something to rut against after having spent the day needy and horny.

“Wow,” Brian breathes, and then pushes Pat’s shoulders back harder. Pat tilts his head back, eyes closed, and rolls his hips again, again, _again_, Brian hasn’t even fucking kissed him yet and he’s already this wrecked, holy fucking shit.

Brian does, at this point, fucking _finally_ kiss him. It’s not a sweet-gentle first kiss; it’s rough and sloppy, eager and urgent. Brian shoves his tongue into Pat’s mouth and Pat honestly just takes it and does his level best to keep up, to give back in kind in any way, but now Brian has an arm braced across his clavicle and a hand pressing on his hip and he — _Jesus_ is that him making those sounds? those fucking wanton whimpers? — it sure as shit isn’t Brian and it’s not like there’s a third party in the room, good Lord.

Brian hitches his thigh up and Pat’s eyes roll back and he moans, tries for words to beg pretty for him but can’t find any, and then Brian kisses him again. He presses openmouthed kisses to his jaw, the side of his neck, and whispers below Pat’s ear, “Can I put my hand in your pants.”

“Yes,” Pat gasps, and then Brian’s undoing his fly and shoving his hand into Pat’s underwear and Pat whines as he runs his fingers over him.

“Fuck, Pat, you’re so wet already,” Brian murmurs, and Pat moans and rocks down against his fingers, trying to get him to do something more than just gently feel him up. Brian curls a finger up and brushes against his clit and Pat’s whole body twitches. Brian gives a soft laugh and moves back to trace over his entrance and then presses two fingers up into him, easy as anything.

Pat hears himself cursing, a string of desperate _fuckfuckfuck yeah yes please yes_, until Brian gets his mouth on his again. Brian has lovely hands; his fingers are thicker than Pat’s and clever and graceful and get Pat panting against his lips. He hasn’t had someone else take care of him like this in way too goddamn long and it shows, in the way he responds to every movement of Brian’s with his whole body.

“You’re incredible, Patrick, oh my god,” Brian says, soft, almost reverent. “Couple questions for you?”

“Shoot,” Pat grunts, letting his head fall back against the wall. Brian’s fingers keep working, but slower, fractionally less distracting.

“One: do you still want me to fuck you?”

“_Yes_.”

Brian grins. “Nice. Okay, two, for reference, like, for pacing, how many times do you usually like to come?”

“Holy _shit_.”

“What! It’s a fair question, lots of people with your arrangement can come like a bunch of times!”

“I — shit, I dunno, Brian, _fuck_ — maybe twice? Three times? I haven’t tested it?”

“Do you want to?”

“Maybe not right _now_, Christ, you’re already doing plenty.”

Brian kisses his jaw. “Fair enough. Uh, three, wanna see if I can pick you up?”

“Wh — sure, I mean, that might be a little ambitious for an extended period —”

“Well, we can try,” Brian says, a little pouty, and Pat laughs.

“Alright, shit, let’s give it a shot. You want my pants off?”

“Yes _please_.”

Brian pulls away to give Pat some space and Pat _definitely totally does not whimper_ when he takes his fingers out of him. He shucks his pants off and kicks them to the side and when he looks back up at Brian, Brian’s shirt is unbuttoned and his dick is out and Pat has to take a beat to just look at him.

“How the fuck are you so hot,” Pat says, and Brian laughs, real genuine laughter, the kind where his eyes crinkle up in delight.

“I could say the same thing about you, Pat Gill. C’mere,” he says, and kisses him. He runs his hands down Pat’s back and unabashedly grabs his ass; Pat pushes his hands into Brian’s hair and kisses him back with fervent enthusiasm.

It is easy enough for Brian to get Pat up off the ground, to hold him up and for Pat to wrap his legs around Brian’s waist. Pat might be taller than him by a couple inches, but he’s spindly and not very dense, so it seems like it’ll work well enough.

Well, it seems like it’ll work well enough for about thirty seconds of making out, and then Brian grunts and tries to shift Pat to get him at a better angle and nearly fucking drops him and Pat squawks in alarm and clings to Brian and nearly sends them both crumpling to the floor but for Pat finding a brain cell and dropping his legs to the ground to counterbalance them.

When they’re done laughing, Brian gives a sheepish smile and says, “Sorry. Shall we reevaluate?”

Pat grins at him, steals a quick kiss. “Whatever you want.”

Brian considers this. “Maybe it’s safer to be on the bed?”

“It is harder to drop me there,” Pat agrees.

“I’ll make it up to you, promise,” Brian says. Pat huffs out a laugh.

“Brian, please, the fact that you’re _here_ is more than I could’ve ever hoped.”

“Oh,” says Brian. His eyes are very wide.

“C’mon,” Pat says abruptly, a little gruff from shyness, from showing his whole hand so quickly, and tugs at Brian’s arm to get him to follow. He hops up onto his bed, sits down legs crossed, and Brian pauses for a moment, triangulating, and then launches himself at Pat. He knocks Pat flat on his back; Pat grabs him around the waist and pulls him down with him, both of them laughing.

“Alright,” Brian says, pushing himself up, bracing himself over Pat, “so like, aside from what we talked about on the way… what’s, like, what are your favorite things?”

Pat blinks at him, and he sits back on Pat’s thighs, like he might need more space to think. Which is fair; Brian is a hell of a distraction. This is not, though, any better of a position, because the only clothing on Brian’s body is his unbuttoned shirt, and there’s a whole lot of great things to take in here, between the curve of his pecs and the sturdy strength of his core and his cock and the muscles of his thighs —

Brian clarifies further: “Like, yeah, I know you like being manhandled a little —” He grins. “— but gimme some direction here?”

Pat’s always been bad at asking for what he wants. He told Brian in a low voice on the train that, yeah, definitely he can hold him down and push him around much as he likes, and gave him a quick list of _don’t_s, and Brian fired back with a similar list, and Pat hoped very much that the people around them weren’t listening. “Uh,” Pat says, and then continues to skate around it because he’s the worst, “I bet you could take three fuckin’ guesses and nail it.”

“Pat-_rick_,” Brian whines. “If you don’t tell me the stuff you like best then I can’t _do_ it and what if you’re sitting there wishing I’d pull your hair but you don’t tell me so I don’t and that’s _tragic_.”

“Well, guess number one was right,” Pat quips, and Brian snickers.

“I figured. You get this look on your face whenever someone touches your hair.”

“It’s not like it’s hard to figure out what I’m into, it’s just hard for me to say, like, god _damn_ I like bruises, though, or whatever.”

“Oh, is that a hint for guess number two?”

“Why are we doing everything in lists?”

“You started it,” Brian points out, and Pat sighs. Brian gentles a little. “If it’s easier for you I can try and figure it out. I just want you to have a — y’know, have space to say what you want.”

“You’re too nice,” Pat says, and takes his hand and tugs him down so they’re chest-to-chest, and does his level best to ignore that, hello, his dick is right against Pat’s thigh.

“Never. You deserve nice. I think I figured out how to help?”

“Oh?”

Brian turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Pat’s neck. “Tell me how you like to be touched here.”

“Uh. That. And also. Biting. And stuff.” _God_. It’s so fucking hard for him not to shut down when directly questioned, especially with a new person, especially when it’s _this specific_ new person. He's sure Brian is going for some sexy thing, to kiss him everywhere and tease it out of him real sweet, but —

Brian snorts. “And stuff?”

“Listen. I have absolutely no game and I can only say horny shit indirectly. It’s easier for me to say it three-times-removed, say shit like ‘you could pin my wrists and fuck me ‘till I’m crying’ in this abstract way I’m saying it right now, and mean it, but only be able to say it ‘cause it’s out of context.”

“Shit, you _do_ mean it?” Brian says, a little breathlessly.

“Yep,” he says. “Bite me, bruise me, hold me down, whatever the fuck you want, as long as you’re not hitting me, we’re golden. This is me giving you express permission to try shit and I’ll fuckin’ tell you if I don’t like it.” Right, okay, thank god he got _that_ across, maybe he just needed to get going, talk in circles around it until he finally converges.

“God, okay, yeah, that sounds good,” Brian says, still looking a little stunned. “Can — will you — do you mind taking your shirt off?”

“Gonna need you to get off me for a second,” Pat says, and Brian scrambles to oblige him, move to let Pat sit up and pull off his t-shirt. He pulls Brian back in by his shirt collar and kisses him, hot and wanting; he runs his hands across Brian’s chest, his shoulders, and pushes his shirt off his arms, tosses it aside without breaking the kiss.

Brian drops down against him, so they’re pressed against each other all everywhere, which — wow, okay, holy shit, he’s naked in his bed with Brian David Gilbert, something he’s fantasized about a nigh-embarrassing number of times but never thought was _possible_, and yet now here he is, eager and willing. Pat runs his hands through Brian’s hair, down his back, stops just shy of his ass.

“You gonna fuckin’ do it?” Brian says, and, shit, Pat’s not immune to goading, just like Brian isn’t, Pat pulled literally that exact shit on him earlier today — so he slides his hands lower and pulls Brian down flush against him, his cock trapped between them so if either of them move he’ll feel it. Brian gives a low, pleased hum and rocks against him experimentally. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he murmurs against Pat’s lips.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’ve got your dick up on me,” Pat teases.

“Nuh-_uh_,” says Brian, and Pat scoffs, and Brian bites his lip in retaliation. “Let me be nice to you, Pat Gill, so help me, I’m going to hold you down and fuck the daylights out of you and tell you how _incredible_ and precious and brilliant and good you are and, and — and that’s what’s happening!”

“Oh god will you _please_,” Pat says, in a far-too-earnest moan, and Brian, beautiful perfect man that he is, hitches Pat up against him, and moves down his body with a trail of kisses until he stops to look up at Pat for permission. Pat nods and Brian dips his head between Pat’s spread thighs to drag his tongue over him. It’s lucky that Brian has a hold on him because his whole body jerks at the sensation, but Brian’s steady grip on Pat’s legs keeps them open.

It’s no surprise that Brian gives head like a champion, gets Pat writhing and moaning in hardly any time at all. He sucks kisses into the inside of his thighs; he hooks Pat’s legs over his shoulders and curls down, burying his face against him, making absolutely obscene sounds as he kisses and sucks and licks and nips and moans; he flutters his tongue against Pat’s clit and sets Pat off into gasping-begging-pleading; he pushes his fingers into him and braces his forearm horizontal across his hips and works him until he cries out and grabs at his own hair and can’t even buck against him because Brian’s arm is holding him down and still and it’s so good, it’s so _fucking_ good, the white-hot burn of it through his bones as Brian teases him through it, laps at his entrance and rocks his fingers inside him until Pat pulls him over to kiss him again.

“Fuck, Brian,” Pat says, breathless, against his lips, once he’s kissed him thoroughly, licked the taste of himself out of Brian’s mouth. Brian grins.

“You’re _amazing_, Pat Gill, so gosh-darn good. Tell me if-slash-when you’re ready to keep going?”

“Shit, now’s fuckin’ fine,” Pat says. “Also I can’t _believe_ you’re calling me Pat Gill while you’re fucking me.”

“Quite frankly, baby, you share a name with my older brother so, like, excuse me for using a way of referring to you that’s specifically yours while I’m talking about putting my dick in you,” Brian says.

“That’s fair,” Pat says, wincing, suitably chastened. “Sorry.”

Brian kisses his forehead. “Nothing to be sorry for, I know you were teasing. Anyway. So. Yes-no-maybe, can I fuck you?” He’s breathless and keyed-up and Pat eyes him over, his arms and pecs and belly and hard cock. Pat nods, biting his lip to restrain any over-eager grinning. Brian, however, shows no such restraint, and plants sweet excited kisses all over Pat’s face until Pat is laughing and Brian is laughing, until Pat pulls him in close so he can get his legs around him and get him where he wants him.

“Pushy,” Brian teases.

“Do something about it, then,” Pat says, and Brian’s eyebrows jump upwards.

“If you say so,” Brian says, and then several things happen in rapid succession. One of Brian’s hands braces on Pat’s shoulder; the other wraps around Pat’s wrist and pulls it up next to his head; in a tandem reaction Pat tightens his legs around Brian and gets Brian to roll his hips against him.

“Fuck you and your long friggin’ legs,” Brian grumbles, pushing Pat down harder with his hands. Pat gives a sort of punched-out grunt in response, from the pressure and the contact; Brian hums, pleased, changing his tune immediately. “Okay, baby, we can work with that for _sure_.”

Pat opens his mouth to ask what exactly he means by that, but Brian’s lips crash into his so there goes that plan. Instead, Brian rocks forward and Pat shifts to align with him, to let him press into him slow and deliberate. He’s sensitive, from having already come once, but in a way that makes it _better_, makes him arch up to meet him. His head drops back against the pillow as he hisses a string of _yesyesyesyes just like that thank you god yes_, grateful to have something — god, grateful to have _Brian_ inside him.

“You look amazing like this,” Brian says, lifting his hand off Pat’s shoulder to brush Pat’s hair behind his ear, counterbalancing his weight with the hand pinning Pat’s wrist. Pat closes his eyes and Brian presses a soft kiss between Pat’s eyebrows. “You’re so beautiful. So good for me. Does it feel good, honey?”

“Yes,” Pat says, half-a-gasp half-a-whimper, as Brian picks up his pace a little, from slow shallow thrusts to something a hell of a lot more eager.

“Want it harder?”

“_Yes_.”

Brian’s mouth latches to the side of Pat’s neck as he winds a hand in Pat’s hair and pulls. Pat draws a stuttery inhale and moans as Brian sucks what’s certain to bloom into a bruise behind Pat’s ear. It is fucking _unfair_, the way Brian can move, the way he can pound into Pat and drive breathy sounds out of both of them.

“Gimme your other hand,” Brian gets out.

“What?”

“The one I’m not holding. Over your head. Now.”

His tone has an undercurrent of — of _something_ that makes Pat obey before he even thinks to process it, and then Brian’s holding both of his wrists down and dear god the way he’s propped up over Pat he has a perfect view down his body, of his chest heaving as he breathes, of the way his movements echo through his whole body.

“Pat, god, _Patrick_, you’re so good, fuck, can you tell me what you want, baby, I want you to feel so good,” he says, and Pat’s held down just enough, being fucked just enough that he can throw his head back and moan and reply.

“I want you to come inside me, please, _please_, and then I want you to make me come again and — and — god, Brian, please, I just want you, that’s all I want, I want you so much,” he says, voice going rough. Brian moans and drops his head down to mouth at Pat’s shoulder, the base of his neck. He’s shaking with effort, breathing hard, and the sounds he’s making are so beautiful that Pat wants to bottle them up to save forever.

“I’m gonna — Pat, _fuck_ — I —” Brian gasps, and then bites the junction between Pat’s shoulder and neck, fucking _hard_, against a muffled wordless moan that sounds like it comes from deep in his bones, that drives an answering sound from Pat as Brian shudders apart over him.

He lets go of Pat’s wrists to collapse against him to catch his breath; Pat runs his fingers through Brian’s hair and Brian sighs and nuzzles his face against Pat’s chest.

“You’re _perfect_,” Brian slurs. He stays still for a few moments, and then turns his head to kiss Pat’s collarbone and pushes himself back up. He’s smiling, dazed-contented, and says, “How d’you like it, baby? Hands, mouth, if you got a toy you like or whatever — just give me a direction. I’m all yours.”

“Shit, Brian,” Pat says, “I dunno, I like all of it.”

“Indecisive,” Brian says, affectionately. He splays his hands out over Pat’s ribcage. “I could go down on you.” At Pat’s skeptical eyebrow raise, he adds, “It’s not like I’m tired of it, and, uh, look, there’s something inherently sexy about eating my own cum out of you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Pat says, which makes Brian laugh. “Yeah, shit, okay, goddamn, don’t gotta tell me twice. You still want me like this?”

Brian considers, and then it’s like a lightbulb goes on above his head. In, wow, in the space of a blink his sleepy-eyed post-orgasm face is gone and he’s got that wicked glint in his eyes again. “Get up and get your back against that wall, Pat Gill,” he says, with that same undercurrent in his voice that makes Pat want to snap to attention and perform perfectly for him. Brian lets him up and he goes, maybe more eagerly than his dignity would ordinarily allow for but fuck _that_, honestly.

Brian goes to his knees in front of Pat, reaches up to take Pat by the wrists again and hold them against the wall, and so he’s breathing hard before Brian even so much as puts his mouth on him. Well, to be fair, he’s plenty worked up already, needy-desperate without Brian’s cock in him, so when Brian doesn’t waste any fucking time tilting his head up and licking into Pat all he can do is whine and take it, the hot wet heat of his mouth, tracking down the things that make Pat jerk and moan and twitch and struggle against his hold.

“Brian, _Brian_, fuck, fuckfuck_fuck_ please,” Pat gasps, eyes squeezed shut, head against the wall, “please baby please _please_ Brian — yes, yes _ohfuckyes_ — oh, _Brian_ —”

The tightly-coiled tension in him comes apart as he spasms against his mouth, as Brian works him diligently through it, until he sinks back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Brian sits back on his heels and grins up at Pat, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah?” Brian says.

“Yeah,” Pat says, and holds out a hand to pull Brian to his feet. Brian pulls himself up and against Pat, thuds against him chest-to-chest in a fierce, tight hug. Pat sighs deeply and settles into his arms, his chin on Brian’s shoulder.

“You’re so good, baby,” Brian croons, running his hand over Pat’s back. “You’re amazing. Can’t believe how perfect you are.”

“You’re perfect,” Pat says, and pushes his face against Brian’s neck as he realizes:

What happens now?

As it turns out, what happens now is that they bump elbows in the bathroom as they clean up and then go back to Pat’s bedroom, bantering with each other and saying nothing of real import.

Not until they get back into Pat’s bed together, until they curl up beneath the covers facing each other, until Brian tucks a stray strand of hair behind Pat’s ear, does the conversation return to seriousness.

“Do you want to do this again sometime?” Brian says.

Pat doesn’t know what the right answer is, so he hesitates. Hesitates some more. And then, fuck it, gives _his_ answer, and says, “I’d like nothing more.”

Brian breaks into a relieved smile. “Gosh, I was hoping you’d say that. I _like_ you, Pat Gill, can I take you on a date?”

“I think we’ve gone and done this a little backwards,” Pat quips, hugging him tighter. Brian laughs.

“Maybe so! But, eh, eating out, going out to eat, basically the same thing —"

“Jesus Christ, Brian.”

Brian grins at him.

“Yeah, alright, you ate me out so I’ll buy you dinner. Is that how that works? I’m unclear on the men-dating-men situation.”

“I think it works however we’d like it to work,” Brian says. He kisses Pat’s forehead. “I don’t need a trade-off like that, baby. I love doing that. You make such beautiful sounds, and there’s nothing in the world like making you come, _gol-ly_.”

Pat breathes a slow exhale. “You can’t just say this shit, Brian.”

“Do you not like it?” Genuine concern.

“No, the _opposite_, you’re gonna make me want to sit on your face all day, god, I have a track record of previously-zero on having new partners get me to come and then you go knock it out of the park and get me off twice? You’ve got a gift.”

Brian winks. “I do my best. Practice makes perfect.”

“Jesus. You have a secret side hobby giving head?”

“_Maaay-be_. Or, possibly, perhaps, I just fuck my best friend a lot.” Brian clears his throat, a little self-conscious. “I mean. Shit. I coulda put that better. My roommate — Jonah — we have, uh, I guess you could put it as a friends-with-benefits situation? We’re platonic partners. Uh. So that’s something someone who dated me would probably need to know. I can — I can, like, stop fooling around with him if you wanted to be exclusive, but, I mean. It’s not romantic and it wouldn’t interfere. But. If that’s not something you’re okay with —"

“You, wait, you want to date me?”

“Patrick Gill,” Brian sighs, “allow me to be perfectly clear: I’ve had a crush on you since, like, 2017, and I would take anything you want to give me. Occasional fucking, casual dating, committed relationship, none of the above — it’s all on the table, _bay-bey_. Just tell me what you want.”

“Fuck, are you kidding me? I wish I’d said something sooner,” Pat says, in quiet wonder. “We could’ve been dating for at least a fuckin’ _year_ by now.”

“Oh my god, Pat!”

“We better get on it, I guess, make up for lost time? Uh, for the record, I’m sure you can keep doing whatever it is you do with Jonah, but I — well, I wouldn’t mind hearing more about it — _Christ, Brian, not like that_ — I just mean, like, logistically, what that sort of thing would mean. I’m not opposed to it.”

Brian kisses him in gratitude, pulls back smiling. “So yes to dating?”

“Yes to all of it. Whatever you want, I want it too.”

Brian grins and pushes Pat’s shoulder to get him on his back, practically pounces in him so he’s over him, smirking down at him. “Good news!” he says. “I want all of you.”

Pat wraps his arms around Brian, and pulls him down to kiss him soundly, hoping he can communicate without words exactly how thrilled by that he is.

From the way Brian kisses him back, he thinks he succeeds.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading i love yall!!!!!!  
(also yes that was an implication jonah is trans :3c )
> 
> @segmentcalled on twitter / comment if you req / comments deleted as requested!


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